


Snapshots of a Love Story

by thearnoldwaltz



Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 07:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10432434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thearnoldwaltz/pseuds/thearnoldwaltz
Summary: Glimpses of Arnold and Helga throughout their life together





	

Helga was on the teeter totter the first time she ever saw him. She spotted him among the crowd of children as she rose over the playground. “What a goofy head," she thought.

* * *

  
Grandpa opened the door to the Packard and helped Arnold out of his car seat. It was the second day of preschool. One of the girls in his class was walking by. She looked kind of sad (and like she'd been rolling around in the mud), but still pretty. Her outfit was such a vibrant color. He opened his umbrella and held it over her head. "Hi. Nice bow." He hoped that saying something nice would cheer her up. He'd noticed yesterday that she had a nice smile.  
"Huh?" She seemed confused, like no one had ever given her a compliment before.  
"I like your bow. Because it's pink like your pants."

* * *

  
"Arnold's up to bat! Everybody move in!"  
Arnold gripped his bat and ignored Helga. I'll show her, he thought.  
Harold threw the ball and Arnold kept his eye on it as it flew toward him.  
Whack!  
Arnold's bat made contact with the ball and sent it flying over everyone's heads and down the road where they were playing. Homerun. Arnold turned to Helga and stuck his tongue out at her before taking his victory lap. Her face wanted to smile but she forced it to scowl instead.

* * *

  
"Hey Arnold, did you hear? Lila dropped out at the last minute. Helga is going to be your Juliet." Gerald raised his eyebrows, teasing.  
Arnold groaned. It was bad enough that he was even in this stupid play... and he had to memorize all these lines... and kiss a girl (any girl. Let alone Helga Pataki). Now he had to do the performance with someone he'd never even practiced with. Someone who would love to see him screw up so she could make fun of him later.  
An hour before curtain, Arnold was pacing backstage reviewing his lines one last time. Helga was helping Phoebe take a final inventory of all the props.  
"Do you need to run lines, Helga?" He asked.  
"No, I've got it all down. Juliet's part is a piece of cake."  
"Really? You've memorized everything in just one day? I've been working on these lines for weeks, and I'm still worried I'm going to forget something."  
"Well, I guess I just have a better memory than you, football head," she said grinning. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go change into my costume."  
"She seems to be in a good mood." Gerald said after Helga had left.  
"Yeah... it freaks me out." Arnold murmured. "She must have some plan to humiliate me. Why else would Helga be happy to have the part of Juliet in a play where I'm Romeo?"  
But the humiliation never came. Arnold didn't mess up his lines and Helga didn't try any vicious schemes to make him trip or trick him into saying something wrong or knock the set over on top of him. She was really quite the actor if he was being honest. The way she spoke her lines with so much emotion... she almost had him convinced that she really was a hopeless romantic like Juliet.  
All-in-all it was a humiliation-free performance. Well. Almost. The kiss (which lasted forever?) was embarrassing of course. But not as bad as he'd expected it to be.

* * *

  
She'd told him.  
She'd actually told him how she felt. And just like Dr. Bliss promised, the world didn't end.  
Of course, she took it all back the moment he gave her the opportunity. Maybe she still wasn't quite ready for him to know. Maybe he wasn't quite ready to know. But the truth was out there now, floating in the air between them, waiting to be acknowledged again when they were both ready to handle it.  
She lay in her bed and tried to remember the way his face had felt in her hands.

* * *

  
Things had been hectic since they got back from San Lorenzo. Every news channel, school paper, and independent blogger wanted an interview with Arnold and his parents. Representatives from the U.S. Department of State were constantly doting on them, trying to help them settle back into life in Hillwood. (They seemed embarrassed that a couple of ten-year-olds had done their job for them and actually found two missing people.)  
Arnold was so busy that it was nearly a month before he hung out with any of his friends (to be honest, he was also a little nervous to do anything without his parents – for fear that they might disappear again).  
"Hey, man. Long time no see." Gerald said when Arnold finally visited his house a few days before the start of 5th grade.  
"Sorry that I've been... absent."  
"It's cool. I get it." Gerald said, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "Helga's been a real pain though," he smirked, "constantly pulling me aside to ask when you're gonna come back and play baseball with us."  
Arnold blushed. He hadn't had much time to think about what had happened with Helga. It was still a lot to wrap his head around. For six years she'd tortured him and then in the span of a few months she'd helped him save his neighborhood and get his parents back. He laughed as he remembered the moment they'd discovered his parents were indeed still alive and where they could find them. It had been a long time since he'd seen Helga smile like that. She'd looked so genuinely happy for him. He had leaned over and kissed her before he even knew what he was doing – which made her smile even more.  
A ball of paper suddenly hit Arnold on the head. "Hey, lover boy," Gerald called from the couch. "Wipe that goofy look off your face and get over here so we can watch Pop Daddy."

* * *

  
Arnold clenched his fists. "You can still be really mean sometimes, you know that?"  
Helga scowled and crossed her arms. She knew it was true. Even though they were dating now, she wasn't always as nice as she should be. As she really wanted to be. Arnold already knew that she was crazy about him, but she was still so afraid to show him just how crazy she really was. She was worried she would scare him off. In the moments that she felt the most head-over-heels, she would try to ground herself with her familiar tough girl act.  
"Well criminy, Football Head, you can't expect me to become Ms. Goody Two Shoes overnight. I'm not Lila, you know."  
"Oh, I'm well aware that you aren't Lila." Arnold said rolling his eyes.  
Helga winced. Arnold noticed and immediately felt guilty. "I'm sorry, Helga. You know I don't want you to be like Lila, right? I... I just want to know that you care about me."  
Helga's scowl softened just a little. She rubbed her arm, embarrassed. "I'm... I'm sorry too..." She couldn't look him in the eye. "I'm just afraid you'll find out how much I care about you."  
He grabbed her hand. "That makes no sense to me." He said laughing. "But I accept your apology."

* * *

  
You'd think after being missing for eight years, they'd want to settle down somewhere safe and familiar for the rest of their lives. But no. Just a few short years of peace and quiet and they were ready to go gallivanting around the world again. And they were taking her beloved with them. Helga watched the yellow haired boy disappear into the crowd of people in the terminal. He was still short, even after his middle school growth spurt. Miles was still visible, so she continued watching until she couldn’t see him anymore either. A few seconds later she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at Phil, who had tears in his eyes.  
“Well, Pataki. I think it’s time to go. It… looks like they’re gone.”  
Phil and Gertie walked out of the airport holding hands, with Helga trailing behind. She stared blankly out the window as they drove her home. She caught the reflection of herself in the glass and reached up to touch the bow on her head. It had been there for so long, but suddenly it looked stupid and immature. She tugged on the bow and the pink ribbon floated to the floor of the Packard. There was no one to impress anymore.

* * *

  
Dear Arnold,  
How's life? My life is the same as usual. Tragic.  
Love,  
Helga

* * *

  
She was running to the bus station as fast as humanly possible. She'd lost a shoe a few blocks back, but she didn't stop. She wanted to be the first thing he saw when he got back to Hillwood.  
A few minutes earlier, Helga had casually brought Arnold up in conversation with Phoebe for the millionth time since he left three years ago. "Wonder what the football head is up to these days..."  
"Oh you haven't heard? Gerald told me he's coming back to Hillwood for senior year. His bus arrives today." Phoebe looked at her phone. "Any minute now probably."  
"What?! Phoebe! Why would you not tell me that?!"  
"C'mon, Helga. You haven't talked to him in years." Phoebe said, returning her phone to her pocket. Helga didn't hear her. She was already running.

* * *

  
Helga picked him up from the boarding house in Miriam's car. Miles, Stella, Phil, and Gertie were all waving at him from the stoop as he stepped into the car. Everything was always a big production with his family.  
"So..." Arnold said as Helga shifted the car into drive. "Is this a first date? Or are we picking up where we left off?"  
"Let's just make it a blind date. Hi, I'm Helga Pataki."  
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Pataki. What do you have planned for our evening?"  
"It's a surprise. Doi."  
The drive was a bit awkward. Neither of them really knew what to say. They chatted about favorite hobbies and school subjects and musical genres. Things they mostly already knew about each other.  
"Helga..." Arnold said cautiously, "why didn't you write to me?"  
"Write to you? I've never even met you before, sir."  
"Helga."  
Helga swallowed nervously. "I... I did write. Every day. I just never sent the letters."  
He sat there for a moment contemplating this new information. She expected him to chastise her. But instead he just reached over and twirled some of her hair in his fingers. "I missed you," he said softly.  
They pulled into a parking space on the street next to Chez Paris.  
"I think I've been here before..." Arnold said – like he was trying to remember when.  
"You have been here before. With Cecile."  
"Oh that's right! I met some weird girl here who was pretending to be my pen pal. I never did figure out who she was." He paused, confused. "I told you that story?"  
Helga looked at him like he was an idiot. Then it finally clicked. "That was you?!" Arnold shook his head, laughing. "What the hell? You were so wacky back then."  
"Hey, Bucko! I am still wacky." Helga lifted her chin haughtily. "Just a more mature wacky."  
A huge smile spread over Arnold's face. "Whatever you say, Helga."

* * *

  
"You go on upstairs. I'll grab us a couple of Yahoo sodas from the fridge."  
Helga shrugged and headed up the stairs for her bedroom.  
Arnold walked into Helga's kitchen and found Miriam sitting at a bar stool. Asleep. Drooling on the table with a half empty pitcher next to her head.  
Arnold tapped her the shoulder and she woke with a start. "Wh...what is it? Who's there?"  
"You missed Helga's play. You said you would be there. It was the last night."  
"Oh, I'm sorry, Sweetie. I'll go next year." Miriam said, laying her head back on the table.  
Arnold clenched his fist. "Miriam, your daughter is a senior. That was her last high school play. And she was the lead."  
Miriam tried to blink away the sleepiness. She took a swig from her pitcher. "I didn't mean to. I just fell asleep. I'm sure Helga will understand."  
"Whatever. She didn't actually expect you to be there anyway." Arnold said, starting to walk away. That got Miriam's attention.  
"I... what can I do?"  
"You could get some help, Miriam." He said, sharply. Then he saw the hopeless look on her face and sighed. "You deserve help, Miriam." He said, more softly this time. "And Helga deserves a mom who's there for her."

* * *

  
They heard the key in the door a moment before it opened, but it wasn't enough time to do anything about it.  
"Jesus Christ, Lila!" Helga yelled as she pulled the covers up to her neck. "Learn what a sock on the door means!"  
"Oh my! I'm ever so sorry! I was just in a hurry to grab my books for my next class and I wasn't thinking..."  
"Close the damn door so we can get dressed!" Helga threw a pillow at her roommate, exasperated.  
Arnold waved sheepishly at Lila as she backed out of the dorm room and (finally) closed the door.

* * *

  
“So… You caught the bouquet.” Arnold said as Helga returned to their table.  
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Phoebe threw it right at me on purpose.”  
Arnold smirked. “You can’t lie to me, Helga Pataki. I saw you jump for it.”  
“Phoebe doesn’t have the best aim…” Helga mumbled.  
Arnold took the bouquet from her and set it on the table. “C’mon, I like this song.” He said, pulling her out to the middle of the dance floor.

* * *

  
Gertie had often struggled with Arnold’s name, so maybe it shouldn’t hurt him so much that she couldn’t remember it at all now. Still, Arnold had always felt sure that, even when she called him by the wrong name, she still knew, fundamentally, who he was. In her most confused moments, she had always seemed aware that Arnold was someone very important to her. But it wasn’t like that anymore. Arnold’s heart had dropped into his stomach the first time Grandma had called for Phil to make the strange man leave their house. She hadn’t just seemed confused; she had actually looked frightened.  
“It doesn’t mean she loves you any less. You know that, right?” Helga said after he recounted the incident. He was lying against her on the couch, trying to focus on the sensation of her chest rising and falling underneath him as she breathed.  
“I know. She can’t help it.” He sighed. “It’s just… you want to believe that you’ll defy the odds, you know? That… she cares about you so much that she couldn’t possibly forget you, despite the disease… but I know that isn’t fair of me. To insinuate that she forgot about me because she didn’t care enough. It’s... it's a cruel and illogical way to feel.”  
“It might not be logical, but I think it’s a perfectly valid way to feel, Arnold. So stop beating yourself up and let yourself be selfish for half a second.”  
Arnold smiled. “Thanks, Helga."  
She kissed the top of his head. “No problem, short man.”

* * *

  
They were sitting on the dock with their feet dangling over the water, gazing at pinks and oranges of the sunset reflecting on the river. Arnold was leaning against a post looking dreamily into the distance as we was apt to do. Helga was leaning against him, thinking about how perfect everything was.  
"Hey, Arnold..." She took a deep breath and turned to face him. "Will... will you marry me?"  
Arnold looked at her, shocked, and then started laughing.  
Helga's cheeks grew hot. "What's so funny?" She asked, feeling a bit panicked.  
"Yes! Of course I will." Arnold said through his grin. "Sorry, it's just you beat me to the punch. I was gonna ask you tonight."  
Helga leaned back into him. "Really?" She asked.  
"Yeah! I was waiting for the sun to get a little lower until it was just a sliver over the water and it makes the whole river glow an orangish-red." He swept a hand over the horizon as he talked.  
She sighed happily. "Well, I think you should still ask me."  
"Okay."  
Helga looked at him expectantly. He shook his head and smirked. Patience was not Helga's strong suit. "Sun's not low enough yet."

* * *

  
It had been a long and exhausting application process, but all the interviews and travelling and background checks had paid off because he'd finally landed a position with a private firm investigating missing persons. Helga took Arnold and Miles out to a celebratory dinner.  
"I don't know why it took them so long to hire you." Miles said as he buttered a role. "You found me and your mom when you were 10 years old. Imagine how great you'll be at finding people now."  
Arnold blushed. “Gerald and Helga helped me a lot back then. I don’t know how useful I’ll be without them.”  
“Aw, you’ll be great.” Helga punched him playfully on the shoulder.  
“What makes you so sure?”  
“Because you’re so damn persistent. And you care too much to ever let anything go.”  
Arnold laughed, “The way you say it makes it sound like a bad thing.”  
Helga shrugged. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

* * *

  
Helga had been seventeen the first time she wrote a poem that wasn’t about Arnold (the first one not for school anyway). Since then, she had written volumes of poetry on all kinds of topics – from sonnets about her fucked up family to haikus about the Hillwood skyline to silly rhyming poems about wrestling.  
Even though these poems didn’t contain a word about the football headed oaf she adored so much, they still felt like love poems, in their own way. Because Arnold had been so integral to helping her reach a place where she could feel happy about the world around her. Or sad. A place where she believed that she was strong enough not only to handle her emotions, but embrace them. Fill pages with them. Arnold had gifted her with the conviction that it was okay to be vulnerable. So she paid him back in love poems - of all kinds.

* * *

  
“How did you deal with this when Stella passed away? Big Bob didn’t even care about me and I still feel so…”  
She couldn’t finish the sentence. Arnold wrapped his arms around her. “I know.” He whispered. “It’s going to be okay.”  
“No. It won’t.” She shook her head violently. “He made me miserable my whole life. He shouldn’t get to make me miserable now. It’s not fair.” Her voice cracked and she buried her face in her hands.  
For once, Arnold didn’t know what to say. There was no magic piece of advice to make everything better. So he just held onto her.

* * *

 

Frankly, Helga had been terrified at the notion of having kids. She had never felt especially maternal, and she certainly was not interested in birthing any of the little monsters. But Arnold obviously wanted them (although he never pressured her), so eventually she suggested that they consider adoption. (“I said ‘consider’” she would remind him whenever he started getting a bit too excited about it.)  
But then Helga met Janie, a grouchy 9-year old girl in the foster care system. “My parents claimed they wanted me.” Janie told Helga and Arnold during their first visit. “But obviously they wanted their drugs more.” She said, scowling.  
I want you. Helga thought. Maybe she wasn’t the most maternal person. But if there was anything Helga did well, it was caring. Janie just needed someone to care.  
“I liked her a lot. She reminds me of someone else I knew at 9.” Arnold said as they drove back to the boarding house.  
They did have a lot in common. Helga knew what it was like to not feel wanted by your own family.  
Arnold ran his fingers through Helga’s hair and gave her a brief glance, beaming, before he returned his gaze to the road.  
Helga also knew how it felt to finally have someone want you when you thought no one ever would.

* * *

  
"Dr. Helga Pataki-Shortman," Helga read the letter out loud. Her hands were shaking. "It is my great honor and privilege to announce..." She paused, feeling too choked up to continue speaking. The tears were already falling.  
Arnold leaned over her shoulder and finished reading the letter for her. "It is my great honor and privilege to announce that you have been appointed to the position of Poet Laureate for the upcoming year..."  
"I can't believe this is really happening." She whispered when he had finished reading.  
"I can." He replied.

* * *

  
“Do you think Amelia will like my dress?” Janie asked nervously. It wasn’t like her to get nervous about anything. But I suppose everyone gets a little anxious on their wedding day. Arnold thought.  
“Is that even a serious question?” He asked, laughing and squeezing his daughter’s hand. “Of course she will. You’re beautiful.”  
Finally, the music was cueing them for their entrance. As they walked down the makeshift “aisle,” Arnold looked around at the collection of people gathered – standing in doorways and crowded against the wall. Gerald and Phoebe were there. Miriam and Olga. All of the boarders.  
It was a unique wedding. Two women getting married in the hallway of a centuries old boarding house – surrounded by people who weren't blood relatives but were family all the same. From the day they'd first brought her home, Janie had been so appreciative of this wacky family. Much more so than Arnold had been at the age of 9.  
They reached the front of the makeshift wedding chapel. Arnold kissed his daughter’s cheek and then stood next to Helga to watch the ceremony. Helga was trying desperately to hide the fact that she was tearing up. He would have to tease her about it later. “You couldn’t fool me,” he would say, “I’ve known for years that the tough girl thing was just an act.”

* * *

  
They were finally doing it all. They had saved up for years for these six months of travelling around the world together - scoping out every cheesy, romantic activity their destinations had to offer. Finding secluded waterfalls and winding mountain trails. Dancing the Tango in Argentina. Dinning under cherry blossom trees in Japan. Coffee in Paris. Roses, sailboats, the whole nine yards. As Helga walked hand-in-hand with Arnold on a secluded beach, she wondered what her nine-year-old self would think of this. She would probably have fainted in disbelief.

* * *

  
"You wanna hold him, Mom?"  
"Uh... I don't know... Maybe your father should hold him first. He's better with babies than I am."  
"True" Janie nodded, "but I'm afraid Dad won't give him back.” (She was probably right. Arnold was already reaching for the child – looking quite giddy.)  
“Hey!” Arnold said, pretending to be offended. “Of course I would give him back… In an hour or so.”  
“Exactly.” Janie said. “That’s why Mom needs to go first.”  
Amelia was handing Helga the baby before she could object further. “Just support his head.” Amelia instructed. “You’ll be fine.”  
Helga took a deep breath and looked down at the tiny person in her arms. You’re so lucky. She thought. You get to grow up surrounded by so many people who love you. Right from the beginning. Helga smiled to herself. And I get to be one of them.  
A minute later, Arnold was reaching for the baby again. “Want me to take him, Helga?”  
Helga held up a hand in front of her husband “Just hold your horses, bud. My turn’s not over yet.”

* * *

  
Helga parked the car, and Arnold helped his father climb out of the backseat.  
“Grandpa’s here!” Janie yelled from the lawn chair where she was seated a few yards away. She jogged over to the car to give Miles a hug.  
“Don’t I get a hug too” Arnold asked.  
“I saw you this morning at the boarding house, Dad.” She hugged him anyway.  
Everyone else was already there. Janie rejoined Amelia and their two boys (both in college now). Arnold helped Miles into a seat next to Mr. Hyunh. Gerald clapped Arnold on the back and the two men performed their decades old handshake. Helga struck up a conversation with Phoebe and her twelve-year-old granddaughter.  
They were surrounded by so many loved ones. Janie and Amelia had arrived at Hawk Mountain before noon to save a spot big enough to accommodate everyone. The sun was beginning to go down now. “Just a couple hours now.” Gerald said, shaking his head. “Can you believe we’ve been lucky enough to see Sally’s Comet twice?”  
“Ah, don’t get all sappy on us, tall hair boy.” Helga said as she walked over next to them. Gerald reached up to touch his hair as if he was checking its height. It hadn’t been especially tall in quite some time.  
“I wish Grandpa could have been here.” Arnold said wistfully.  
Helga smirked. She didn’t bother telling Arnold not to be sappy. It wouldn’t do any good. Instead, she pulled a framed photo out of her purse and handed it to her husband. “I thought you might feel that way.” It was a picture of Phil and Gertie from when Arnold was a boy.  
Arnold’s eyes got misty and he squeezed Helga’s hand. “Thanks,” he said, sniffling.  
As the hour of Sally’s return approached, everyone settled into their seats and grew quiet, waiting. Arnold propped the picture of his grandparents up next to his chair.  
“I hope this is as good as you’ve made it out to be,” Helga said.  
Arnold rolled his eyes, “Don’t worry, you won’t be disappointed.”  
“There it is!” someone shouted. The comet was like a ball of fire in the sky. Arnold looked over at Helga as she watched it pass. “Wow” she whispered, looking up at the sky, mouth hanging open in awe.  
“I know,” Arnold said still looking at her.

* * *

  
Grandpa Phil had thought the family curse was dying at 91. But right now Arnold was thinking that the real curse was living to 91. Or longer. Phil had actually made it to 109.  
Helga had died at a respectable 87, but Arnold still felt like he was 60. Unfortunately, his body wasn't giving out anytime soon.  
When he arrived back at the boarding house after the funeral, he found himself wandering around, examining every scrap of paper he came across. Hoping she'd left some words for him that he'd never read or heard before. That's how Helga had been writing all the first drafts of her poems for the past 50 years. On the back of shopping lists and bills. Some of them she would type up later – and spend hours revising before publishing them. But others were written just for fun.  
Finally, he found one. A poem he hadn't read. Written on an envelope from some junk mail. At first he'd thought it was an old one. A very old one. But she'd rewritten it. Arnold took a deep breath and sat on the couch to read.  
H is for holding on to those I adore,  
E is for each day better than the one before,  
L is longing to write what’s in my soul,  
G is for the gift of feeling whole, and  
A is still for Arnold.  
Doi.


End file.
